


Wish you were here

by endlessghostfire



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slash, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-11 17:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessghostfire/pseuds/endlessghostfire
Summary: [Canon Divergence: Season 7] After Rimmer leaves, Lister falls into a great depression that even Kryten and the Cat can't bear to be around. His time filled with drinking too much and sleepless nights, Lister becomes the definition of 'given up'. One day, Rimmer returns to Starbug, but Lister has seen that in his head too many times.It wasn't the real Rimmer. Or was it?(Be aware: heavy amounts of Angst, but a happy ending. Inspiration from a Red Dwarf Discord thread)





	1. Chapter 1

The bright lights on the dashboard glared at Lister as he absentmindedly pressed a few buttons to set Starbug into autopilot. Relinquishing control, he rolled his neck, forcing air from his tired joints with a loud crack, and meandered into the living quarters.  
It was quiet these days, especially since they had found a derelict with a scouter small enough to fit into Starbug’s landing bay, and Kryten and Cat had decided to go exploring in the nearest planet to them. They obviously must be having a great time, as it had been three weeks since they had left the small green spaceship. They kept giving Lister small updates to make sure they weren’t in danger, most often limited to ‘STILL ALIVE, K+C’ every three days or so.  
Lister couldn’t blame them for staying away. He’d fallen into a fit of despair when Rimmer had left, having to see his best, well, only friend leave knowing the possibility of seeing him again was the same as seeing a dancing hippopotamus on the next moon he passed was a bit of a bummer, to say the least. The only solace he had was Kochanski. She’d helped him through it, even flashing him a bit of nipple when he was in the lowest of the low moods, but even that made him cheer up for a day at most.  
She’d left almost as quickly as she came into his life. He woke up one morning after a drunken infused sleep to find a note on her bunk explaining why she had to leave. Apparently looking after a mopey-depressed-alcoholic-bum version of her boyfriend had driven her round the bend. He still couldn’t understand how she left the ship, but suspected Kryten had something to do with it.  
Kicking an empty beer can across the floor, Lister made his way to the fridge, where he noted his stock of lager was dwindling into double digits now. He’d only filled it up a week ago. Grabbing as many cans as he could carry, the scouser made his way back into the living quarters and dumped them all on the table. Taking a pew in his usual chair, he buckled down for the night, aiming to get drunker than he had the night before, which was almost impossible. 

*******************************

Rimmer was utterly, and maniacally bored. How long had it been since he had taken up the ridiculous façade of Ace? Two, Three months? A look at the date on the dash had himself surprised. Eight months? EIGHT? He’d been away almost as long as a full-term pregnancy? It couldn’t be.  
Where had the time gone? Well, he knew that answer. Eight months of hopping endlessly through dimensions, having to risk his very important life for lesser beings in danger, only to be rewarded with a kiss on the cheek and maybe a fondle down there? It had only happened once but it still counts.  
It just wasn’t worth it. How many Ace’s had been greeted by a grisly fate only for the girl he was trying to save didn’t even want a piece in the first place? Or maybe it was just him, the only version of Ace that didn’t get rewarded with mindblowing sex while sucking on an expensive cigar and using his enemies skull as an ashtray.  
Whatever the case was, Rimmer was completely and utterly bored of being Ace. His onboard computer hated him. The second she realised he wasn’t the Ace she knew she had turned into a snide bitch. Now, whenever he asked her to do anything, it was done with minimal effort and a sarcastic comment.  
Sighing, he shook himself out of his neurosis rut and recharted the ship for preparation to Jump. After a universe of nothing but stars, it was time to Jump again, sure enough to find someone that needed saving. 

Just how right he was.

************************************************

 

8:46AM INCOMING MESSAGE: STILL ALIVE, BUD. C+K

Cat must have written that one, Lister thought groggily as he slumped into his seat in the drive room that morning.  
His mission the night before had been unsuccessful, and so a sleepless night of flashbacks, nightmares and voices ensued. Some of the voices stayed with him when he was jerked awake for the 20th time, most of them versions of a certain hologram he had come to miss of late. All lay in the back of his skull, whispering to him how much of a failure he is. How he could have been so much more, how he was stupid for missing Rimmer because he hated Lister anyway. How his longing to see that tall git again was just desperation from being out in space for so long. 

Coming back to the present, Lister noticed a red blinking light to his left, indicating the airlock had been opened. Kryten and the Cat must be back, the thought not bringing him any joy. He heard someone moving around, a can accidentally being stepped on in the living quarters, and finally someone entering the drive room.

‘Hello, Lister’

The voice he’d heard a hundred times in his dreams spoke up. A part of Lister’s brain told him it wasn’t a hallucination this time, that it wasn’t his desperate need to see Rimmer again, that he was actually here, but he quickly stomped on that brain cell so that all was left was a whimpering atom. 

Without even turning around, Lister lazily raised a hand as gesture and murmured: ‘Alright, mate’.

He knew if he turned around he would see what he always saw. Rimmer, tall and smirking, half sitting on Kryten’s station and leaning on his leg while staring down at Lister with glee. He would be wearing Ace’s uniform, puffer jacket and all, but had shed the stupid blonde wig, which he would be able to see discarded in the living quarters. Instead, Lister would see the unruly curls that Rimmer had long given up trying to tame, and beneath one said curl, he would see a shimmering ‘H’ in the middle of his forehead. ‘  
Lister had seen it a thousand times, after the hundredth or so, he’d stopped getting his hopes up.  
‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’ The voice said again, nasal and full of neurosis.

‘Yeah, man’ Lister muttered sarcastically, ‘Ecstatic’.


	2. Chapter 2

Rimmer could hardly believe it. It always took a few seconds for him to get over the Dimension Jump, but when he did, he saw something that made his heart jump. 

Yes, there had been other Red Dwarf’s. Yes, there had been other Starbugs, but, somehow, Rimmer knew this was his Starbug, and inside, his Lister.

He was home. 

Ignoring the computers rude remarks about him not being missed, he drove his ship towards the familiar green spaceship and requested landing, noticing the autopilot was on.   
Stepping out of the airlock, he breathed in deeply, savouring the stale air of the recycling unit aboard with great satisfaction. When he opened his eyes, however, he noticed the mess. The curry packets, microwaved within an inch of their radioactive lives left heaped in the corner of the table, the beer cans, emptied and crushed strewn across the floor of the living deck. 

Stripping the itchy blonde hair from his head, he dropped it whilst accidentally stepping on an empty lager can. Cursing himself, a strange nervousness began to set in. It looked like no one was here. Kryten would have blown a fuse if he had left the ‘bug in this state for more than an hour, and judging by the smell, it had been left a lot longer than that. The Cat, well, one would never know where the Cat was at any given time, so it didn’t exactly rule him out, but Rimmer couldn’t see any hair products or waxing machines plugged into the outlets on the walls, which was strange in itself. Then there was Lister, who was obviously the culprit of the mess. Where was he? 

Rimmer checked his watch: 9:12AM. Lister would still be drinking at this time, watching an old rerun of the Zero-G finals with his grubby feet up on the table and a large kebab in his hand.   
Beginning to worry something had seriously happened to his, albeit handicapped crew, Rimmer was relieved to hear a cough come from the Drive Room. 

Lister was here! 

He approached the Deck carefully. It had been eight months, after all. Knowing Lister, he’d probably forgotten all about him by now, or sworn a sacred oath of hatred towards him.   
He stopped by Kryten’s station. There he was, all dreads and leather jacket, all smeggy boots and unwashed socks, bandages wrapped around his wrists as bracelets and cute little chubby cheeks which puffed out when he grinned. 

‘Hello, Lister’ Rimmer finally found his voice, holding his breath for the reaction.

There was none.   
Seconds ticked by. Seconds which seemed to stretch into hours before Lister raised a nonchalant hand. 

‘Alright, mate’ 

Rimmer’s mouth hung open in response. How could Lister be so…so…so unsurprised to see him? All of a sudden, a million explanations ran through his hologrammatic head. What if Lister had found another version of him? A better version, like the original Ace, and was now happily living beside the better version of Rimmer? No, that couldn’t be. Judging by the sheer number of beer cans on the ground, Lister could only be depressed. That couldn’t be it. Maybe Lister had somehow died and was a hologram himself? That’s why he didn’t turn around, he didn’t want Rimmer to see the ‘H’ embellished onto his forehead. No, Starbug was only capable of sustaining one hologram at a time, meaning if Lister was dead, Rimmer couldn’t have come aboard.   
‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’ He finally made out in a slightly higher pitch than normal. His anxiety got the better of him and took control of his mouth. He stared down at his companion hoping, no, willing him to turn around, to jump up and hug him, to do anything but sit there and pretend this was a normal occurrence.   
‘Yeah, man’ He heard the other say, not even twitching from his position reading the navicom.

‘Ecstatic’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'd love any CC or reviews you are willing to give! Here's another chapter, sorry if it's a short one I'm writing the next one as we speak!

Rimmer didn’t know how long he has stayed still, all he knew was utter confusion. Lister still hadn’t turned round from his seat in the cockpit and was now idly pressing buttons on the control panel, taking it off autopilot and continuing to ignore Rimmer even more by taking the joystick.   
After a good while of watching Lister’s careless driving, Rimmer cleared his throat. He was tired, and hungry, and most importantly he needed to be clean. He could’ve easily programmed himself so, but in a short attempt to remain human, he decided he needed a shower. Maybe if he looked more like his normal self rather than a homosexual Canadian pop singer wrapped in tin foil Lister might acknowledge it was him.   
Standing from his perch on Kryten’s station, he took a few steps towards his long time friend. “I, um” He started shakily, then tried again, “I need to freshen up…you should too”  
“Yeah, man, whatever.” Came the muttered response and Rimmer was dismissed.   
Climbing the metal steps towards the sleeping quarters, Rimmer realised it wasn’t just the ground floor that was in a state of disarray. Cans littered almost every surface, even lining the walls of the corridors. Stepping into what was his sleeping quarters he used to share with Lister, the first thing he noticed was that someone had tampered with his bunk. The sheets were left crumpled and strewn in the middle of the bed and his pillows had been piled into a heap at the top. At a longer glance, he saw his posters had been moved too.   
About to rush back down to the drive room to give Lister a piece of his mind, he clocked the positioning of Lister’s bedsheets in the bunk above: they were almost in exactly the same way. The little ball of fire that had started brewing at the thought of someone messing with his bunk died down when it finally hit him.   
Lister had been sleeping in Rimmer’s bunk. His swimming certificates with photos of himself had been moved to the head of the bed, next to the pillows, he even saw the tail of his favourite dressing gown in the middle of the sheets.  
What did it mean? Rimmer took a seat at the table in the centre of the room and leant on his hands. Did this mean Lister actually missed him? No, it couldn’t be. Maybe he just got so drunk that he couldn’t jump onto his bunk anymore and simply crashed in the nearest available bunk.   
Yes, that seemed more plausible. The few brain cells in the back of his mind that weren’t effected by his neurosis tried shouting at him that Lister did in fact miss him, but they were soon drowned out and shoved back into the corner where they belonged.   
So, where could he go from here?   
As Rimmer got himself out of the stupid shiny uniform and found a towel, everything that had happened had started a repeat lap of his brain.   
He hardly registered his shower before the taps shut off to conserve power and he found himself grabbing his towel again to get dry. He was running on autopilot, and he managed to shake himself from it as Starbug did a little lurch and announced it, too, was no longer being manned, meaning Lister was out of his chair.   
Sure enough, Rimmer heard the heavy thunk of Lister’s boots on the stairs as he neared the quarters. Panicking, Rimmer dried himself to the best of his ability and ran to his locker, where all of his old uniforms were still being kept after eight months. Grabbing the nearest one to him, he shoved it on and was running his towel through his dripping hair as he heard the bunkroom doors slide open. 

 

After about half an hour, Lister got too impatient and too fed up to pretend to steer Starbug in the right direction. He needed to stay close to the planet Kryten and the Cat had sailed off too, so ended up just circling said planet in circles until he had had enough.   
His hallucinations never took this long to ‘shower’ or ‘freshen up’, they were usually back within minutes pestering him, asking him inane questions that only Rimmer could ask.   
Accepting the fact that he had most definitely gone mad this time, he shoved the ship onto autopilot again and went to find the stupid figment of his imagination.   
As he got to his bunkroom, the first thing he smelt was Rimmer’s soap, something he had taken to using whenever he decided to scrub the dirt off of himself and frowned. Maybe his brain had found new ways into convincing him this Rimmer was real. If that was true, Lister had to hand it to his brain, it was pretty smegging smart.   
The doors slid open with their usual groan, and Lister was greeted with the red uniform and curly hair of Arnold Rimmer. He hadn’t seen a hallucination that vivid in quite a while, normally they would stay in Ace’s silver flightsuit and, just as Lister came to his wits end, would jump back into their spaceship and never been seen again. This was different, but Lister couldn’t lie and say that the image of Arnold Rimmer standing in a JMC uniform with his stupid smegging curls in their old bunkroom didn’t make him want to smile.   
Sighing, he entered the room and plopped down in one of the chairs, grabbing a half full can of flat lager and taking a sip, time to play along.   
“So how long are you planning on staying this time, eh?” The question made FakeRimmer start, put down his towel, and join him at the table.   
“I, er, well…” FakeRimmer looked down at his hands as if in both confusion and disappointment, “As long as you want me around, I suppose”  
That stumped Lister, he was expecting the ‘forever Listy, of course, you can never get rid of me, until I need to go and live my life, then I’ll leave you behind again’. Chewing on his bottom lip, Lister lifted the can and gave it another sip, chuckling in disbelief.   
“I never thought I’d want you around.” He said quietly, watching FakeRimmer bristle in the corner of his eye, “You were always annoying as all hell and a smeghead to top it all off” His eyes softened as he stared at nothing in particular, reminding himself of his Rimmer, the one who left forever, “But I need ya with me, man, even though you’re never coming back”  
“But I am back, Listy”  
Lister shook his head, “Sure, and I’m a zero G football star” He grunted as he stood up, suddenly knackered, and plonked down in Rimmer’s bunk, “Listen, guy, I’d much appreciate it if you bugger off back inside my head now, I don’t need any more reminders that my Rimmer ain’t here”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like the chapter! More coming soon!   
> Please feel free to leave comments/any CC for my work, anything is much appreciated!


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